


I'm bad at tags sorry

by sprinklyzucchini



Series: prevailing zukka trash [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Fluff, I spent an hour agonising over describing zuko practising it was terrible, M/M, and a broken nose, butt touch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-07 03:10:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4247127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sprinklyzucchini/pseuds/sprinklyzucchini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ya so I read that prompt somewhere where person A bravely makes a grab for partner-booty and partner has an elbow-to-the-face reaction to it.<br/>Rude.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm bad at tags sorry

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Об ожиданиях и неожиданностях](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5602954) by [Amaryllis133](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amaryllis133/pseuds/Amaryllis133)



> I HAVE FAILED IN MY ATTEMPTS TO BE APATHETIC ABOUT THIS SERIES, CURSES McDAGNABBIT!!

Sokka likes his brain. No, really. He prides himself on being able to remain focused, and pragmatic and all that stuff that gets shit done, yeah? He is pretty fuckin’ chuffed with his mind, most of the time.

But of course, that means he has to suffer its occasional betrayal.

Where it kinda screeches to a halt, does a backflip into some sort of quicksand-thing, and remains stuck.

Funny thing is, this started occurring far more frequently ever since he started noticing his boyfriend. Before he and Zuko even got together. Weird coincidence, right? Haha.

But anyway.

It has been a week since they kind of asked each other out. Zuko had been a (cute) zombie, and Sokka had been suffering from a grievous bite (shut _up_ Zuko, it could’ve been dangerous okay???) and they’d worked things out from there.

It has been a week, and nothing much has changed, except for the obvious tiny lil things like when he sees Zuko shirtless, or pouting, or writing so much that his hand goes stiff, that he realizes he can _do something_ about it instead of just imagining it.

Which brings us to his current predicament. At five in the fucking morning.

Wherein his aforementioned well-loved, functioning mind has screeched to a halt, because he sort of forgot that Zuko practices his kung fu/yoga?/martial art-sy mix at ass o’ clock in the morning.  
He has a very good memory, okay. It’s only that _Zuko_ is the early bird, and Sokka is far from it. So yeah.

But he sort of had an extremely weird and disturbing dream, not bad enough to classify it as a nightmare (but definitely getting there) – and since he can’t go back to sleep (ugh.) he thought, _welp, time to call on the caffeine gods._

He is still frozen on the way to the kitchen.

Zuko has his almost-shoulder-length hair tied up into a ponytail, and his fringe swept back with a hairband. The ponytail sways with the tiniest movement he makes. He is graceful and frightening, each sweep of his feet and jab of his arm controlled and precise. Sokka loses himself in watching him go from rigid to languid, the sweat shining on his back, rippling as muscles shift under slightly flushed skin.

Someone else takes notice too, and wow _isn’t this just the best time._ Sokka startles, and glares down at his pajamas. _Down, boy._

Traitor brain. Traitor dick, too.

Coffee. He came for coffee. Face heating up in embarrassment, he makes a silent exit before his subconscious decides to make anything else into an innuendo.

He ponders over the ‘problem’ of his errant libido as he pours out the measured amount of coffee into his mug. It _has_ been a week, and while he is more than okay with taking things slower (what with all the making out they do anyway) sometimes… yeah, sometimes. Sometimes he wishes he could just innocently touch Zuko, without them having to be in an intimate situation everytime, okay? ( ~~and the touches don’t have to be entirely innocent, actually~~ )

He pads back out of the kitchen, steeling himself to not look over at Zuko (while his eyes scream at being denied this privilege.) He knows the guy can’t afford to be distracted by his ogling anyway. He goes into the bathroom, performs all his morning duties, helps his dick out in the shower because come on, letting shit build up like that is just unhealthy – and by the time he’s done, he opens the door to find Zuko already in their room.

He imagines letting out a long, screechy wail as he feels his mind stumble over and go _pchuhkkk_. Shut up, he’s allowed to be dramatic.

Zuko, oblivious to his boyfriend shamelessly making googly-eyes at him, pulls out the scrunchie, carding his fingers through the matted, grimy mass of dark hair. He is shirtless and gross and sweaty and Sokka had already made this observation but it doesn’t matter, he would like to make it again – and no, Sokka probably has gotten over that slight twinge of insecurity over how _fucking ripped_ Zuko is. Now all he can think of is running his hands and tongue over it and go even lowe – _dude you just had a bath, get your shit together._

_Shit’s protesting, and will not get itself together._

‘Oh good, you’re done.’ The words startle Sokka, _and okay wow he did not realize he was staring at Zuko’s ass, shit look up lookuploo_ –

‘Uh. Yeah.’

Zuko throws him a small smile over his shoulder, but from this angle it looks more like a smirk – and suddenly Sokka is 110% convinced that he _knows_. Of course he knows. He’s probably smirking because he knows _exactly_ what Sokka did in the shower and Sokka wonders if he could… maybe take another shower?... with him… and…

‘Er, are you okay?’ Zuko’s facing him now, an eyebrow raised, a corner of his mouth turned up in bemusement.

Maybe it’s because he doesn’t see Zuko like this very often. He needs something to justify why his skin is practically itching to get closer and wrap around him like a gangly-ass blanket.

Or maybe it’s just the coffee. Whatever, you know.

He mumbles out some half-assed lie about how he _is_ fine, but not so fine because it’s only six now, and also because he has shit to do which he’d rather not do so “being fine” was just kind of a redundant phrase anyway – and yup, there is the Full Body Zuko Eye Roll ™.

‘Awesome.’ He fake-grins and bends to collect his towel, and _oh fff. Uuu no. oh god. Holy shit. Fffffck. Stop it, Sokka you’re not some animalistic apeshit douchebag._

_But we’re allowed to… tap asses! It’s just an ass-tap, calm your metaphorical tits._

_Yeah, but you haven’t done that before._

_First time for everything, my good rational man._

Body sort of ignoring the internal argument going on, Sokka inches forward – and come on, not like it’s a horrible crime, of course he won’t ever do it again if Zuko is displeased or uncomfortable – but –

He shifts closer, fingers boldly tracing the small of Zuko’s back and splaying out over the curve of his ass. His shit-eating grin (he knows that’s the expression he currently has, because it’s default when he does something impulsively dumb like this) starts to morph into one of shock. And joy. Like he has found the holy grail. And Zuko probably is expecting this anyway. That smirk, that fucking smirk.

Zuko’s ass – _perfect, firm, did he already mention perfect?_ – is literally a Sokka’s-palm-magnet, there’s no doubt about it. He intended it to be a tap, but now he thinks his palm might move itself to slap his face if he takes it away.

Unfortunately, said ass is connected to his boyfriend, who it seems, has no qualms about damaging Sokka’s face.

_… I deserved that. Ow._

One moment Zuko’s standing over him (oh. He was knocked flat onto the bed.), perplexed and red in the face – and the next, he’s very very close, tripping over apologies and exclaiming in indignation at the same time and the look on his face is kind of hilarious.

Except Sokka can’t laugh, because, ‘ _OWwww, dude,_ you _broke_ my nose?!’

‘I’m sorry!’

‘I mean – okay, maybe that wasn’t the best thi-’

‘Wait, shh, let me get first aid – you sure it’s broken?’

‘I don’t want to touch it – why did _you do that?!_ ’

‘ _Why did you grab my ass?!’_

‘Umm actually I only meant to like, tap it…?’

‘Sokka…’ The Eye Roll again.

He can feel blood running down his mouth and chin, and slowly drying, as gentle fingers probe at his nose – _do. Not. Yell. Don’t. –_ and Zuko declares that his nose is not out of place, therefore, not broken.

‘Breathe for me, okay?’

‘Awww, that’s corny.’

Sokka thinks Zuko’s trying to get his eyes stuck at the back of his head, and mentally high-fives himself for remaining hilarious even when his face is throbbing with pain. But he takes a deep breath, and aside from the insides of his nasal passage feeling all clogged from the blood, he doesn’t feel any restriction. Phew. Good.

 

Two hours later, Sokka’s lying down with his head bent over Zuko’s lap, ice pack pressed to his nose. This, by the way, is also not a general occurrence. But it is a significantly better one – he thinks – as fingers soothingly comb his fringe back, and scratch the fuzzy hair at the sides of his head.

He opens an eye, and looks at Zuko poring over that thick ass dictionary lying on his stomach, his hair swept back, tiny tip of tongue poking out (he never realizes he does this, never.) and one rebellious lock curling around his cheek. He looks peaceful, and beautiful, and now Sokka feels bad.

‘… Hey.’

Zuko hums, signaling for him to go on.

‘About earlier… uhm. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.’

‘Oh! Uh,’ Zuko faces him now, but doesn’t meet his eyes, and the good half of his face has turned an impressive shade of pink, ‘actually. Uhm. I didn’t. I didn’t… mind that. It was… reallykindofhotactually.’

…

‘Oh. Okay, but then my nose demands an explanation.’ Sokka smirks, and Zuko glares at him. It’s not very effective when he still resembles The Plastics on a Wednesday.

‘I wasn’t _expecting_ you to just up and grope me like that.’

‘I thought you _were_!’

This earns him a raised eyebrow. ‘I know you were ogling me when I was practicing, but no, I still wasn’t expecting that.’

‘Huh.’

‘Yeah.’

‘SO does that mean I can do it again?’ He lifts his head, and – nope _nope nooop-puh, lying back down. Sorry, nose._

He hears Zuko snort, and then feels him shifting. There’s breath tickling his chin, and the angle is awkward, so Zuko ends up kissing him only halfway  on the mouth.

He’s taking that as an affirmation. Well, mostly.

Sometimes Zuko’s elbow is a jerk, so.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry, sokka's nose. and yes, they really haven't groped anywhere below the waist it's only been a week soooo and idk why i'm saying this even it's 3 in the morning pls spare me
> 
> ALSO WHY CAN'T I WRITE SHORT, SHORT "DRABBLES" WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME pls tell me i will get over long-winding all of my stuff one day. ONE day. pls?


End file.
